Till Dawn
by kissxmyxasthma
Summary: A shy guy gets the courage to ask a girl out, in an unusual situation. AU. First fanfic, please give it a chance.
1. Out on a Limb

**A/n: Okay, my first fanfic ever, so please bear with me here. It's a little dark. Some mentions of suicide, attempted suicide. I hope it's not too bad. AU. Ummmm…. That's pretty much it. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own chuck**

Chapter 1: out on a limb

Chuck saw her first as a silhouette, there on the bridge, spotted under a streetlamp.

He paused at the sight, his heart thumping. His response was two-fold and embarrassing, as it always was when he saw something female and beautiful. A mix of terror and well... terror. Shyness was his bane. It vied with every desire in his heart, kept him bound and gagged.

He was a lanky twenty-six year old with curly brown hair and warm and once inviting brown eyes. His features were handsome. They were often, however, mistakenly described as cold and distant. His acquired shy nature kept him apart from people, and he rarely met their gaze when he was forced to speak with them.

As Chuck made his own silent way across the bridge a cool wind whispered by and he was glad for the jacket he wore. The night was crisp, the stars sharp as shattered glass. Above the bridge, the faux nouveau streetlights were large and yellow as small moons. Below rushed the flood-swollen river. It was fast and dangerous this time of year, enough so that town residents were warned not to let their children play near its shores. The wind carried up a bit of spray tasting of algae and wet stone.

Behind, Chuck could hear the cheers and noise from the park, where an illuminated diamond, hosted an impromptu baseball game. Ahead was the music and traffic of the town. Lives, it seemed, were being lived in either direction. The bridge, itself, however, was deserted and quiet, isolated just for Chuck and the girl, as if they'd been separated out from the world.

The girl had her back to him. She was wearing a twilight purple sweater shawl and a brown suede skirt, neither of which gave much clue to her figure. Matching boots outlined slender calves. Most striking of all was her blonde hair, which fell, curling and tumbling, almost to her waist. It was like a sunrise in the middle of the night.

She stood there, at the opposite rail, gazing out. _What was she seeing?_ Chuck wondered. The river was rushing towards her. Was she thinking of where those floodwaters had come from, the snowmelt off mountains? The country rills and brooks?

Perhaps she was thinking about her sophisticated and well spoken boyfriend living upstream.

For a second he selfishly wished he was that boyfriend.

He'd always wanted that in his life, the silly mush of couples who thought obsessively about each other. He'd always wanted know what it was like to smile across a dinner table at someone because of a secret joke. Or to engage in some frivolous activity like roller-skating. To hold hands.

He'd always wanted that connection. More than anything. But he'd had it once and he figured he never another chance. Not like this girl and her boyfriend, whoever he was.

The girl moved closer to the railing. Chuck hastily stepped back into the shadows between streetlamps, suddenly afraid that she'd notice him ogling her and take offence. He started to drop his eyes, to turn away. To think up excuses should she see and question him.

And then he saw the girl set her knee on the top of the granite balustrade and haul herself up onto the railing.

Chuck felt himself turn to stone. He would later wonder why he didn't dash over and grab hold of her. Jerk her by the sweater shawl onto the cobbled walkway.

Only one thing popped into his head at that moment. The last thing he thought that would pop into his shy, tormented brain.

"Want to go out on a date?"

**A/n: Thanks for reading. I would really appreciate some feedback. It's cool if you want to say I suck, but I would be super awesome if you tell me why I suck. Any comment at all. If it was too short, or something.**


	2. Help me

**A/n: Thanks so much for the feedback! Very much appreciated. I have no idea how to like reply and stuff, I'd like to, but for a teen I am not tech savvy at all. Ummmm... I was told that the chapter was short so I kinda lengthened it up a bit. I don't really know how short is too short or vice versa and stuff like that so... Well thanks again for the reviews. And if you guys noticed, I changed my pen name cause it was really similar to another pen name so i decided to change it. This was actually my brother's account first but he didn't write so I asked for his. Well anyway, hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck**

Chapter 2: Help me

Chuck was once the sort who loved to engage in conversation. Now, he was the sort who said little or nothing, or on rare occasion of extreme panic...ramble. Of course he did that even when he still was attached to other people. This time, however, he was clear, if not loud.

These words were both precise and ringing. They carried across the bridge, over the rush of the water, over the sounds of distant traffic, the shouts from the baseball diamond.

The girl froze.

"Just one date."

He couldn't believe he'd said it the first time, let alone a second time, but that was his voice. At least, he thought it was his voice. It had never sounded that strong, that sure before.

The girl did not shift from her position half up on the rail. Chuck sensed that she was waiting to hear him step near so she could throw herself over. He stayed where he was.

"How long have you been there?" Her voice was a little husky, like the rustle of fabric in a dark room. Not angry. Just... curious.

"Maybe five minutes. So, do you want to go out?"

Chuck didn't know if he was more disconcerted by the question, which he couldn't seem to stop asking, or his bold tone. It was as if the girl's intent to suicide had transformed him from a pathetic squire into a knight in shining armor. From a total noob to a master, pwning every level. He'd never felt more confident in his life.

She moved at last, bringing her leg down from the rail and returning to the walkway. He'd captured her attention, that at least. She turned. A coral turtleneck was under the sweater shawl, outlining an athletic body. Above was a beautiful face, the cheeks rosy in the cold. He wasn't close enough to tell the color of her eyes.

For a moment, she just scrutinized him. Chuck stood with hands in the pockets of his gray work jacket, letting her get a good look at how very harmless he was in his converses and black slacks. His white shirt was half out of his pants and loosened silver tie.

Normally, he would have been mortified to appear so slovenly before a girl, but, once again, he felt oddly bulletproof. His looks didn't matter in this instance, just what he'd said. He knew that.

"You can't stop me," she asserted, her tone testing. Probing.

He almost smiled with wonder. He'd confounded her. That was a first.

"No," he agreed. "A person determined to take their own life will find a way. You can interrupt them, watch them for seventy-two hours. But the second you turn your back, they will manage to kill themselves. People have hung themselves from doorknobs. Opened their veins with ballpoint pens."

"Trust me, I don't need ballpoint pens or doorknobs," she retorted.

Chuck shrugged. "I just want you to know that I'm not trying to enlighten or transform you. I just want to go out on a date."

She blinked. "With a suicidal girl?" She raised one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. "Though I suppose it does get you off the hook if you don't want to call her the next day or go on a second date."

He hadn't meant it like that. He just wanted her to feel wanted, even if it was just him.

This girl was prepared to throw herself over the railing into icy, rushing waters. He expected sluggish depression or defensive anger, not this dark humor.

"Why do you want to go on a date with me?" she demanded.

For the first time, Chuck dropped his eyes, ducked his head. It was yet another revelation to him to realize that he'd been meeting her gaze this whole time, speaking to her as easily as he might a friend, not a stranger and a girl.

A very beautiful girl.

"Well...prisoners condemned to die get last meals, and terminal patients get last wishes." He flicked his eyes up. She was listening.

"A suicide," he went on, "ought to have a good memory to take with them into oblivion."

"You've got the wrong idea about suicides. Or at least about me," she countered. "If anything in life were tempting me to stay, that last meal or last wish, I wouldn't be planning to throw myself off a bridge."

So, she was very good at reasoning, at reading people too.

"Let me take you to dinner and give you one last wish," he bargained. "And I'll tell you my real reason for asking you out. Or you can say no and I'll turn around and let you jump."

Chuck said this with conviction, he hoped she couldn't tell he was lying. He would never let anyone kill themselves if he could help it. He may be shy but he wasn't cruel.

Her arms folded across her chest and she eyed him suspiciously.

"Dinner and a last wish could take a long time," she observed. "You could really drag it out..."

"Till dawn," he said. "Most dates, if they go well, really well, last till dawn. I mean I've never had a date like that I usually stayed for breakfast, I just heard from my friends, but it's not like my friends are not... well the one friend, we were really close so I guess it's okay for him to tell me, but I guess that could be considered ungentlemanly but i guess-" he rambled on.

She found the way he rambled well, never used this word to describe a man at least not in a good way, cute.

Chuck finally stopped his ramble.

"Till dawn" she confirmed with what he thought was a resemblance of a smile.

She'd said yes. God help him.

**A/n: So that's where I got the title, ummmm... once again feedback would be awesome. I'd really like to hear you comments and suggestions, and if I didn't mention it before, English is not my first language, heck it ain't even my second, so, pointing out grammar errors would be a huge help. Don't want to sound like _too_ much of an idiot. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Suicide's Choice

**A/n: Thanks so much for the reviews. Some people told me that I should really make my chapters longer so... Here it is! :) Ummmm... I'm not going to be able to post for like a week cause my step dad's MAKING us go on this family nature trip****(maybe two weeks, if my sister doesn't freak out at the first sight of a mosquito lol)****, ergo, all electronics must be surrendered for the duration of the trip. Oh and if anyone was wondering, tagalog is my first language(I live in the Philippines), and mandarin is my second(mom's Chinese). Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3: Suicide's Choice

"I'll stay on this side," Chuck suggested. "We can meet when we get to the end." He wanted to assure her that he wasn't trying to get near enough to grab her and drag her away from the rail.

"All right."

They stepped in tandem down the cobbled walkway, her heeled boots tapping softly, as were the soles of his black converses. He kept to his side when they stepped off the bridge, staying away from her until they'd both crossed the street. Then he finally dared to approach her.

She didn't flinch as he neared and he was sure she'd make a panicked dash.

It was as if she knew if he tried to stop her, there wouldn't be much of a struggle, she'd just win.

She didn't make a panicked dash, even a regular dash as he'd expected. Chuck's heart pounded very hard and his breathing grew shallow he stepped up. It always did this close to girls. In her heeled calf-high boots she was about 3 inches shorter than he was. She looked up at him. Her eyes were as blue as the morning sky. How could someone with features like a bright and shiny morning be so dark?

"So where are you planning on taking me?" she asked, just standing there looking at him, as if she was trying to read his next move. Like this is some sort of game. _Maybe to her it is_, he contemplated.

He looked at her and gave her a contemplating look.

He brought his hands out of his pockets and spread them while slightly shrugging. "Lady's choice."

"Suicide's choice you mean." She said, going back to masking her face with a blank expression. "I told you. Nothing appeals to me."

"Well," Chuck thought desperately, "How about that little Italian restaurant a block or so from here? That way, if you change your mind during the meal, you can come right back." Of course he had no intention of letting her do that.

A faint twitch touched her lips. Was that respect he saw in her expression? _It was just my imagination, _he dismissed with a light shake of his head.

He offered her his arm. She hesitated, and then slipped a hand around it. Leading the way, he escorted her to dinner.

* * *

><p>Sarah's Café smelled of garlic and fresh baked Italian bread. The floors were terra cotta, the walls and ceiling stucco. Square tables, draped with yellow and blue cloths, crowded the little restaurant. Given that it was a weekday and sometime past the usual dinner hour there weren't that many patrons and the murmur of voices was mild, which suited Chuck just fine.<p>

A quaint and charming place to take a suicidal girl on a date, Chuck nervously mused as a waitress offered them a discreet corner. He still couldn't believe what he'd done or where he'd ended up.

And he was in a near panic trying to figure out what he ought to do next.

He helped the girl out of her sweater shawl and drew her chair back for her. It was among the few things he enjoyed doing on a date, acting the part of gallant gentleman. He always got angry with men who took women for granted. Let any of them spend just one day in his shoes; they'd learn quick how lucky they were.

His date lifted up the menu, her long lashes dropping to peruse it. Now that they were close, Chuck found that everything about her seemed to affect him. Her smell, the way she toyed with one of those satiny blonde curls. The flash of amethyst earrings on her powdery soft earlobes.

"You don't get to ask," she said suddenly.

"Pardon?"

"If you ask me why I was about to do what I was about to do, I'll leave."

"I won't ask then," Chuck promised, but inside he quavered. The dates he'd gone on had sunk because he was never able to maintain his end of the conversation. This one was going to go right to the bottom if all they had to discuss was him. He never knew what to say about himself that wouldn't send them running to the hills.

She scanned the menu again and sighed.

"Nothing looks good to you?" he asked anxiously.

"Nothing."

"Well..." He thought about it. "What would you never order on a date? Go for that."

The waitress came back. Chuck requested a Caesar salad for them to split and a carafe of the house wine.

"I'll have the spaghetti with olive oil and garlic," the girl ordered, which surprised Chuck as he'd assumed she'd go for something self-indulgent. Veal in cream sauce or stuffed lobster.

"Lasagna," Chuck decided for himself. After the waitress left he asked, "Why the garlic pasta?"

"I'd never have that on a date," she explained, pushing up the sleeves of her turtleneck. "You don't want to reek of garlic when you kiss later on."

_We're going to kiss?_ Chuck almost blurted, then blushed. _Stupid question_. Of course they weren't.

"No amount of bad breath," he heard himself saying, "is so bad that I'd object to a kiss from you."

The girl cocked her head. "Really."

Chuck winced and almost sunk his face into his hands. Had he really just said that? "I'm sorry, that sounded really—"

"Desperate? You don't have to pretend with me."

Right. He'd asked a suicidal girl out on a date. She could hardly have missed the fact that he was desperate. He might as well have signaled it with semaphores.

Chuck felt himself hit muddy bottom. And the date had only just started.

"Do you have a name?" the girl asked as the mortified silence lengthened.

"Uhh." _Suave lover boy, very suave. _"I'm Chuck. Short for Charles. Chuck Bartowski, yup that's my name." he said with a nervous laugh "Ummm... Is there something I can call you? Or shall I just keep to Miss?"

She saw the restaurant's name at the corner of her eye and smirked. "Why don't we call me: Sarah?"

"Sarah," he agreed.

* * *

><p>The waitress brought the wine and pushed forward a cart with salad ingredients. She made up their Caesar there at the table in a wooden bowl.<p>

After the dressed romaine had been divvied onto two chilled plates, and they'd been wished Bon Appetite, Sarah leaned in. "You said you'd tell me the real reason you wanted to go on a date."

"It's going to sound awful," Chuck confessed.

She shrugged. "My opinion of you, good or bad, is not long for this world."

He flinched at that. He couldn't help it. She might as well have slapped his face.

Sarah blinked. "I'm sorry, that was harsh. I promise, I won't think badly of you. It's not like I'm in a position to judge anyone."

_And just what did that mean?_

Chuck downed a gulp of wine. "The reason I asked you out is because I knew I could handle the rejection if you said no."

Brows shot up and she took a sip of her own wine.

"Well, that was unexpected," she conceded. "I guess if a girl half over the side of a bridge tells you she has better things to do that night, you're likely to believe her."

Chuck wanted to laugh but he internally reprimanded himself for even thinking that.

"You can laugh you know" she said noticing his discomfort.

"It seems wrong. I mean, given how you must be feeling—"

"No talking about me," she reminded him flatly.

"Sorry."

Silence again. Sarah started in on her salad,

"Have you suffered that many lame excuses," she finally ventured, "when you asked girls out on dates? I mean, that you'd need such guarantees?"

"No." He was watching the way she easily manipulated the knife and fork to bring small bites of salad to her lips.

He cleared his throat. "Truth is," he went on, "the only rejections I've ever suffered were all in my own mind. You're the first woman I've ever asked out on a date" he paused for a second "since… never mind"

"You're shitting me." She said, pretending not to hear the last part.

The foul language startled him. Which was ridiculous. What kind of screwed up soul was he that he was more disturbed by her using vulgar words than trying to commit suicide?

"I wish I was," he muttered.

"So I'm the first date you've ever been on?"

"No. Just the first I've ever gotten all on my own. I've been on a few dates set up by friends...well, not really friends...more like peers who took pity on me." He sighed. "None of them worked out."

"No kiss at the door?" Sarah queried. "No second date?"

He flushed. The shyness within him wanted to shut down, to go silent as usual. He forced himself to verbalize. "Some experimental kisses in the car. Rejection at the door. No second date."

Sarah looked thoughtful, and then her demeanor completely changed. Her head tilted slightly to the side, a seductive smile crept up to her lips. Then she did the last thing he thought she would ever do on this date.

She slowly moved her hand over his caressing softly.

"So.." her voice had grown deeper, it was as if she was some professional seductress. "no girl has ever acted like this before?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but making sure his hand was still on the table.

"Ummm…no" whilst nervously chuckling.

Then he could feel a foot slowly grazing from his ankle. With their eyes locked on each other, the sultry look on her face was still there, the foot slowly went upwards.

When he was practically shaking with nerves, it stopped at his knee and withdrew.

She went back to normal and said:

"You weren't sitting me." With a hint of a smirk on her face.

He was about to ask her if she was some sort of actress when the waitress came back with their entrées. He noticed Sarah surreptitiously put her boot back on. Then she calmly tucked into her pasta. _I didn't even notice her take it off_. Chuck stared down at his cheesy lasagna, wondering if he could manage to keep his hands steady enough to eat.

Chuck swallowed a mouthful of food. "No," he finally replied, "I wouldn't lie to you. It's part of the deal."

Now it was her turn to look uncomfortable.

"How is it?" he asked about the garlic pasta.

"Different."

Chuck poured them more wine. "Is different good?"

"It lets me feel something, so I suppose it's good."

They ate in companionable silence until they both were full. Neither of them was able to finish the generous portions.

The restaurant gave them complimentary desserts of Neapolitan ice cream and coffee. Chuck paid the bill. It was not expensive. Even if it had been three times the price, he'd have thought the dinner a bargain.

"Where to now?" Sarah asked as Chuck helped her on with her sweater shawl.

"We're on a date. We have dinner, and then we go out and do something. What would you like to do?"

**A/n: As always some feedback would be awesome. And if it still isn't long enough please tell me cause I have no friggin' idea what I'm doing. lol. Can't think of an activity for them so if you've got any suggestions go ahead and review, no suggestions? Review anyway! Heh. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Aztec Sacrifice

**A/n: Thanks so much for the kind and helpful words! Ummm...I squeezed this in, cause I'm not goin to be updating for a while. And made it pretty long. Hope this will keep you guys for a while. You guys will see a glimpse of our favorite CAT(no, not Zondra...or Amy...Sarah's been in the fic the whole time!...It's Carina OKAY!) Thanks to Etta Mae for their activity, sorry EM, may I call you that? anyway, sorry cause I kind made 'party crashing thing' more of a 'dancing kind of thing'. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!**

Chapter 4: Aztec Sacrifice

"Hm," she said as Chuck opened the door for her and they stepped out into the crisp night air. "Well," she said, "First things first."

The kiss was wholly unexpected, so much so that Chuck nearly stumbled back in shock. He did lean back a bit, but Sarah just leaned in, and before he knew it, Chuck was pressing forward to meet her.

Chuck has been kissed before by girls. Some quick, some experimental, some hot and heavy, and Chuck cherished every one. He had a mental scrapbook of each tender touch, soft lips, a brush of eyelashes, a silky cheek, and some tongue. None of those kisses, however, had been anything like this. He'd never imagined, in fact, that a kiss could be like this.

Sarah's mouth opened, the kiss deepened, and he tasted the cool of her tongue, still sweet and bitter from the ice cream and coffee. She caressed his lips and the roof of his mouth. By the time she parted from him, he was breathing hard.

"Did you taste the garlic?" she asked, a question so far from what was on his mind that he blinked at her for several seconds before remembering what she'd said at dinner.

Pasta with garlic. Right.

"Sarah," he said roughly, "you could eat Limburger cheese and I'd brave it for another kiss like that."

She smiled and took his arm. They started down the sidewalk, passing under trees and streetlamps. The night was filled with sounds: Car doors slamming, groups and couples chattering as they waited for lights to change. Behind windows folk in coffeehouses and bars laughed and conversed.

_All alive and living_, Chuck thought.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, and he felt her hand on his arm, pressing through his jacket. "You were looking happy. Now you look sick."

"Oh. I just... Whenever I'm among people like this, I always feel separate. I wonder how it must feel to be in rather than out. With them rather than apart."

"I can understand that." Sarah nodded. "It's like stepping out of a house. You can gaze in through all the open doors and windows, watch the folk inside sleeping, eating, bickering, having sex. But you can't feel any of it."

Chuck shook his head. "No. That's not how it is for me. I'm inside the house, but I'm bound and gagged. I want to participate, I know what I'd say and do if I could. I can even imagine how it would feel. But I can't do it. I'm restrained. Vicarious living is all I'm allowed."

"That sounds worse," Sarah reflected.

"No, it's not." He ventured a touch on her hand. Her skin was cold and he rubbed it, trying to warm it. "At least I know what I want."

Abruptly, she stopped. "Look," she said and pointed. Chuck blinked up. Across the street was a house party.

The house looked old, but not in a 'cement cracks and busted rain pipes way', in like 'your great grandparents haven't even been born yet when this was built' way. The music was loud enough that they could hear it from across the street. Flashing multi-colored strobe lights adorned every window._ How did I not notice that?_ Chuck thought.

"Let's crash that party," Sarah said. "I think I'd like that for my last night on earth."

Her words were like a stab through the throat. Chuck had forgotten that this was all going to end. Permanently. It was an odd thought for him as he often brooded on the girls he'd dated, and how they'd moved on. They'd brushed Chuck from their minds like erased e-mail, and were now living with real boyfriends or starting families or making inroads on their chosen careers.

Sarah wasn't going to be doing any of that. However good or ill this date went; tomorrow she would be gone from the world.

Somehow that disturbed him more than if she were to forget him and live on.

"Crash that party," he echoed. "All right."

* * *

><p>The cliché bouncers didn't give them a hard time. It had been fairly easy to get in the party, given that you've got a hot blonde in tow. They had later learned that it was a 21st birthday party of some girl named Amber.<p>

Chuck was standing at the corner of the room where the party was happening. It was a big house, all the furniture had been removed , they had hired a DJ. If you actually looked at the room, it was obviously made with class in mind. Crown moldings, the shelves riddled with vintage books. But they had made it into some sort of night club, it was an array of people dancing, making out, dancing while making out.

Some people approached him, asking how he knew the birthday girl. His answers ranged from 'distant cousin' to 'teacher from school' to 'boyfriend'. Every time someone asked he'd always forgotten what he'd said to the one before, just wanting to get the conversation over with.

While he was awkwardly standing there holding a cup of god knows what, Sarah looked like she was having fun, dancing with random people. But if you looked closer you could tell that her expression remained blank, indifferent. Like she wanted to enjoy it but couldn't. She'd asked him to dance a few times but he declined every time, saying "I dance like a hamster on speed."

When a slower song came on he'd finally given in to her request.

* * *

><p>"Ow! What the hell man!" that was the third time he had accidentally stepped on some random person's foot.<p>

"I suck at this" he murmured while clumsily swaying.

"Here, I'll show you." She said while moving closer. "You've got to be looser." She said while gripping his hips trying to make him move to the music. Their bodies were meshed together. He was grateful for the low lighting and just the flashes of multi-colored strobe lights, she wouldn't see him blush.

Soon enough they were grinding on the dance floor. Her arms draped over his shoulders, his hand on her hips keeping her in place. As if she wanted to move. She looked pretty comfortable right where she was.

She had left him to get a drink, he just kept on dancing to the music, then before he knew it some hot redheaded girl was migrating closer and closer to him. She was now mere inches away.

All he had to do was pretend it was Sarah. The low lighting made it easier for him to do so.

"Carina" the girl shouted over the loud music "What's your name cutie?"

Before he'd even had the chance to respond a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him at a 150 degree angle.

In front of him he saw Sarah with a deathly glare, but it wasn't pointed at him, he turned his head to see it directed at the girl he was dancing with earlier. "We're leaving" she shouted over the still pounding music. _Was she jealous? _He quickly dismissed the silly idea, it _was _silly….right?

* * *

><p>Afterward, they went to the bar next-door for a drink. She had told him that she couldn't drink that imported swill they called beer. And the butt load of twenty-one year olds was working the bar to death.<p>

"So why party crashing, or more specifically, dancing?" Chuck asked her.

"It was something I remembered enjoying that, I haven't done it in a while. I thought I might be able to recapture the thrill."

"You sure recalled the moves," he sipped at his Sunburst. "Did it excite you?"

She drank her Midnight Martini. "It excited me to watch you. Seeing you, I remembered what it was like when there was still an effort and every beat mattered. You helped me to re-experience the exhilaration."

"I'm glad."

"How old are you?" she asked him. "And do you live here? And what do you do?"

"I'm twenty-six," he said, "Almost twenty-seven. I was born and raised here, and I" Leaning slightly back, pointing at his uniform. "obviously work at the Buymore."

"Is that your passion, working at the Buymore?" she wasn't trying to mock him, she was just curious. He seemed like a smart guy.

"I guess." He shrugged. "I like working with computers. And working at the Buymore is the only place I can do that."

"It's good to have a passion," Sarah said, not wanting to delve into a subject he was obviously uncomfortable about.

And then, _there it is again_, he thought,_ that look of respect_. For him.

"we're the same age," she went on, "And I was...well, I've been all sorts of things. Sales clerk, barrista, dog walker. I've dressed runway models in Europe, dealt cards in Vegas casinos. I did staging for a heavy metal band in Denmark, and worked on a movie set in Tokyo."

Chuck was frankly intimidated. They were the same age and she has done quite literally a hundred more things than he has. _All that and we're the same age? Talk about living life to the fullest._

"Sounds like you've done a lot."

The blue eyes dropped. "A lot, yeah. Been from Alaska to Australia. Tried just about everything and anything I wanted to try."

"I wish to God I'd had the courage to try just one thing I've wanted to try," Chuck said bitterly.

"Don't envy me," she said ironically, and took another gulp of her drink. "Given how you found me, I'm the last person you should want to be."

He blushed. "I'm sorry. I'm not envious exactly. It's just that what you said makes me...see now how little I have to offer you. I'm pretty embarrassed by what I said about granting a last wish. What could I possibly give you that you haven't already had?"

Sarah eyed him thoughtfully. "That's the question, isn't it? Come on," she said abruptly.

He followed her out, taking her arm as they headed down the street. For a moment he feared that she'd taken what he'd just said to heart and was going back to the bridge. Then she turned them and brought them into an old, Victorian hotel.

Chuck checked his step as Sarah led them through the chandelier-lit lobby.

"Wait here," she said, bringing out a small wallet from a hidden pocket in her skirt.

"Sarah—" he hesitated, licking his lips. "You're not thinking—"

"You're granting my last wish, Chuck," she reminded him. "Stay here."

He tried to protest, but she went up to the front desk, leaving him there, twisting his hands.

Twenty minutes later she dragged him into the elevator and up to the fourth floor. With a swipe of a keycard, she opened up a room for them. It was small with an antique desk, floral print walls, and a king-sized brass bed. Chuck's stomach went sick as he shut the door behind them.

The alarm bells were screaming in his head again.

After a quick inspection of the room, Sarah came to stand before him, hands on her hips. She looked very smug. "A proper date should lead up to this, don't you think?"

Chuck swallowed hard and tried to keep his gaze steady. If ever there was a time to look someone in the eye it was now.

"Sarah...I've never done this."

"I figured," she said, slipping off her sweater shawl. "Lucky for you, I have. I've been meaning to ask," she added, sitting down on the layers of comforters that softened the bed, and casually removing her boots. "What was wrong with all those girls? The ones you dated? You're a nice looking guy. You've got a killer smile and the manners of a prince. You're not obnoxious or stupid. So why no second dates?"

He flushed to the roots of his hair and found his eyes dropping. Fair question. Answering, however, was about as easy as lancing a boil.

"There was nothing wrong with them," he blurted before his inhibitions could stop him. "It's me. I suffer from chronic shyness. I know that sounds stupid, like something a little kid would have. But it's a real and it's debilitating."

"Since 'what' did that start happening?" she asked.

"Pardon?" he didn't know what she meant

"Back at the restaurant you said you hadn't been getting any second dates since…" she paused, hoping to convey her message "Since what Chuck?" she continued.

"Since when I was kicked from Stanford." He said looking down at his black converses.

"Being betrayed by your close friend and then having your girlfriend trade you up for that close friend." he explained further "That kind of damages your ego and self-esteem. It just isn't something you just get over. I guess some people do, I just, didn't."

He heard the roughness of his voice, the hurt. Was that really him saying all that aloud?

"There were no second dates," answering her earlier question, "because I couldn't open myself up to those girls. And what little I was able to give them...bored them. A person as shy as me...is pretty dull."

Tentatively, he glanced up at Sarah. She'd removed her stockings and was now lying, barelegged on the bed. Her blonde hair fell about her shoulders, framing her beautiful face. She wasn't smiling, nor was she eyeing him with pity, which would have been worse.

"The reason you're able to say such things to me," she said gently, "and do things you've never been able to do with other girls is because I'm already dead to you. That's really why you asked me out, isn't it? We give pieces of ourselves to others and hope they care enough to treasure them. If they don't, it's painful. As if they'd left that piece in the attic to rot."

She smiled at him affectionately. "With me, you don't have to worry about that. I won't be wandering around carrying a piece of you with me. I'll be gone, and that piece will be back in your possession."

Chuck felt the blood drain right out of his face. She had that uncannily right. Usually, opening himself up on a date had been about as easy as taking a scalpel and slicing into his own belly. Not so with Sarah. He felt he could rip into his guts and hand her his beating heart like an Aztec sacrifice.

And the reason he could do that, as she'd said, was because she was as good as dead to him. That made him want to hand pieces of himself to her, not because he thought he'd get them back, but because he wanted to bring her back to life.

**A/n: Again, reviews would be awesome! If I did anything wrong, or something doesn't seem right, PLEASE let me know. And I'm really unaware of how to do the 'racy' stuff, if anyone would like to help please do, or if you think I should just do the 'one hour later' or 'two' I really don't know how long it lasts. I'm only 14 freaking years old, okay? Furthest I've gone with my girlfriend is 2nd base. And the walls of my house are pretty thick so I really have no idea, HELP PLEASE! Anyway, thanks for readin!**


	5. The End

Chapter 5: The End

"Sarah," he said now, "I'll do whatever you want to do. I said as much when we started. And anything you want to know about me, I'll tell you. What I like, what scares me, what I know and don't know, every embarrassing secret I've got, if you're at all interested. Every last piece of me is yours. I don't even care why you might want it, or if I'm going to get anything in return. But if I could be granted any wish tonight...well, I'd like, I'd really like to do more than just...amuse you."

She pushed up and off the bed. She looked troubled by what he'd said, shaken. "This isn't about amusing me, Chuck. That never entered my mind." She stepped up to him, brushing at the lapels of his jacket. "Take off your clothes and let me show you what it's all about."

He did as she asked, removing jacket, shoes and socks, sweater and shirt, and finally his trousers. Standing before her in his briefs, however, he hesitated.

Did she like the way he looked? There was a light dusting of hair from his chest to his navel. His muscles weren't well developed, but they were defined. Was that good enough for her? And what would she think, this worldly woman, of what he had below?

She didn't ask him to expose that last part of himself. Instead she said, "Why don't you undress me?"

His pulse picked up and he felt faint.

She turned, letting him see the zipper on her skirt. He pulled it open, feeling wonderfully intimate. This was the sort of thing men did for their girlfriends.

The suede skirt parted and slipped off those hips. A pair of lacy boyshorts came into view. Chuck had half expected a thong, but these were better. Navy blue and patterned with wavelike swirls. He stared in awe at the curve of Sarah's ass under that pretty lace.

She turned, giving him a tantalizing look at the front of the boyshorts, at the slight V of them pointing down. His gaze trailed down the slender legs and back up again.

He wondered if she'd leave in disgust if he fell at her feet and started weeping in gratitude.

_God, Chuck, try to be half a man for just once in your life!_ he thought fiercely.

"The turtleneck?" Sarah softly directed him.

Forcing his hands to continue he gathered the coral turtleneck from around her waist and drew it up. Her skin was silky smooth. Up past the ribs. A bra appeared, a match for the underwear. Underarms with their own warm aroma. They'd been waxed, smooth.

Chuck found himself leaning in. Before he even knew what he was doing his lips were kissing flesh. He finessed the turtleneck over her head, off her arms and out of her hair. Tossed it. His hands found her shoulders and he got his lips to her neck. He breathed her in, kissed and licked and nipped. Took little bites of those alluring earlobes, loving how their powdery softness contrasted with the hard, amethyst earrings.

He tangled his hands in her beautiful hair and stroked down her back. The straps of the bra slipped off her shoulders and he reached around to unhook it. He fumbled only a little.

She pulled away from him, walking as if she were in slow motion, hips swaying.

She lay down on the bed, she propped herself up with her elbow, her ankles crossed making her long legs look like a mermaid's tail, minus the fin. That was what she was right now, mystical, like her beauty only existed in museums, those old world paintings. The only light was coming from the amber glow of the tableside lamp.

For a moment he just stared at her, hoping her face would show any kind of encouragement. He'd half expected what he got, a blank expression.

He turned away from his thoughts and looked at the live painting and softly said, "God, you're beautiful." With that, went his last coherent thought.

* * *

><p>Chuck had been told that men didn't like to cuddle after sex. He couldn't understand that. He'd never in his life felt so close to anyone as he did now to Sarah and the last thing he wanted to do, lying there in the darkened room, was to leave her. Nor could he imagine letting her go. All he wanted, now and forever, was to cradle and protect her.<p>

"My real name is Sam," she murmured, which startled him as he'd thought she'd drifted off. Her head was resting on his chest, her mane of blonde curls blanketing his shoulder.

"Shall I call you that?" he asked.

"No. I've always liked the name Sarah. If I wasn't going to kill myself tomorrow, I'd probably keep it."

A chill went through Chuck. "So, you're still going to do it?"

She sighed. "I guess you've earned the right to know. The reason I was on that bridge... You have to understand I used to feel everything...strongly. And I used to love trying all kinds of new things. Meeting new people, seeing new places. Then, about a year ago, I suddenly went dry. Exotic cuisines, extreme sports, it didn't matter. Nothing stimulated me. And I couldn't seem to give a shit about anyone either. No one I met was interesting. And every place I visited seemed the same. I tried to care, I really did. But I couldn't. It's been a year and I'm still the walking dead. I don't want anything. I don't like anything. There's no pain. No pleasure either. I just can't...feel."

Silence. Chuck was troubled now. "I'd hoped...you didn't enjoy yourself tonight?" His heart hurt at the thought.

"Oh. Oh no, Chuck, honey." Her hand stroked his jaw. "God, no. That's just it. For you it's all fresh and new. Other men have liked how I looked, but none of them have ever looked at me like you did tonight, as if I were the most amazing creature on Earth. It made me feel unique, like I never have before."

That eased his mind. _At least I was able to give her that._

"It was why everything we did tonight was special," she went on. "The fun under the table, the kissing, the lovemaking. You were receiving and giving that kind of pleasure, hearing it, smelling it, tasting it all as if it were for the first time."

"I don't think," she added thoughtfully, "that you will ever end up like me. You're one of those rare types who knows how to treasure every sensation, every experience. Nothing will ever grow dull to you, or old or tired."

"I haven't been completely honest with you," she felt him shift slightly under her body. "All those things I did, all the places I've been" she paused.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me what you really do" he wanted that memory of her intact, he knew it seemed a little selfish but that's what he wanted.

"No, it's not like that, I have seen those things, did those things, just" she said, slightly tensing up " as different people."

"What do you mean?" he said, somewhat relived that she didn't lead just another boring life as he did.

"Chuck, I'm a spy, well _was_ a spy" she said, the first time her voice ever waivered.

He had no other choice but to believe her, that's what he wanted.

"What, what happened?" he asked.

"I quit, I just felt numb, mission after mission. That's what they train you to do, you know? To become numb, so you can just pick up a new mask and wear it as your own. With all the politics and corruption, you don't know what you're fighting for anymore." She said "I couldn't do it anymore, I wasn't living" she paused, trying to think of a better word "…just existing" She said, once again masking her voice with an almost robotic one.

He didn't need her to, he didn't want her to, explain further, he just lied there and slowly nodded his head.

Her face was a white shadow in the dark room, her breath warm as she drew near. She found his lips and kissed him. "There was nothing I wanted, Chuck." She explained further "So you couldn't give me that last meal, that last wish. But you let me re-live life for a night, and you gave me a last chance to feel something. And you did that simply by being you."

_A last chance_. Chuck echoed in his mind, holding to her. Tears pricked in his eyes. So. He was glad for what he'd done.

He was sorry, however, that he hadn't changed her mind.

* * *

><p>Morning light was cresting over the city as they made their way back to the bridge. The streetlamps along the way dimmed, like moons sinking into waves of sunrise color.<p>

Chuck hadn't been able to think of anything to say to Sarah on the return journey. All he could do was hold her hand. It wasn't until they reached the bridge that he finally managed to say, "Are you sure?"

"As sure as anyone can be," she said. "If I thought that things were likely to change, if there was something in life I was passionate about, or looking forward to, that'd be different. But it's all just the same for me. I don't even get angry or afraid anymore. I eat and sleep and time passes. I feel like life is wasted on me and it'd really be better if I just gave up my space to someone else. I wish I wasn't this way, Chuck, and I'm sorry. But I don't see any reason to stick around."

He escorted her up to the exact spot she's been the night before. The early morning wind was moist and less chill than the evening's had been. The sky was lightening from a deep indigo to a rich blue.

"I had," Chuck said with a lump in his throat, "a very nice evening."

"So did I."

They gazed into each other's eyes, and the kiss they exchanged was tender.

Feeling the warmth of those lips, for a final time, Chuck turned Sarah to face the river, exactly as he'd originally seen her.

He crossed over to the other side, hoping he wouldn't hear a splash. He wanted to be gone before she did it.

Reaching the opposite rail, he put up his knee up and pulled himself onto to the stone balustrade. The flooded river rushed dangerously swift below, glowing with the fiery light of dawn. It was beautiful. Welcoming.

There would be one shock of cold, he figured, and then it would sweep him away, along with consciousness. He hoped it would be fast.

The roar of those waters filled his ears as he leaned forward to give himself over to gravity.

"CHUCK!"

She grabbed him by the jacket, jerking him so fast, so hard that he tumbled back and hit his head on the cobbles. Stars flashed behind his eyes.

"Ouch! Shit!" he hissed.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" Sarah screamed. She was standing over him and for the first time, there was life in her. Angry, blazing life. Her color was high, her honey hair fluttering in the wind.

_So that's what she looked like when she was really feeling something. God._He thought._ She was stunning._

Chuck pressed a hand to the back of his head. A bump was already beginning to form. He felt more embarrassed than anything. Sarah had had the presence of mind to race across and grab him, as he had not been able to do for her last night.

He really envied her decisiveness.

"What was that?" She was furious, absolutely livid. "You think you can't live without me or something? Is that what you were about?"

"No," he said wearily and shifted himself first up onto his knees, then around so that he could sit with his back up against the rail. "Damn." He touched tenderly at his head. At least it wasn't bleeding. "That really hurt."

"Chuck—"

"No," he repeated. "I mean, no offence, Sarah, but it had nothing to do with you."

"What then?"

"I was going to do that last night. Until I saw you and got distracted."

She gawked. Her breathing had been coming heavy, now it went shallow. She sunk down to sit beside him on the icy cold cobbles. Sideways, like a mermaid. He liked that. It was very feminine.

"You came here last night to kill yourself?" she demanded, disbelieving.

"To throw myself off the bridge," he affirmed.

"Liar!"

"No lie. I told you I'd be honest with you. Honestly. I planned to kill myself." He smiled bitterly. "Funny, huh?"

"Hilarious." Her expression softened. "But why?"

He ducked his head. "I can't go on like this. I look ahead, and I see myself twenty years from now, middle aged and eating microwaved meals alone. That's not a life."

Tears were trickling down his cheeks. He wiped at them angrily. He didn't want her last image of him to be of some weepy guy. "So now, thanks to you, I know what living feels like, a small touch of it. I know what's it like to have an honest-to-God date, to open up and talk with someone, to make love. That's a good memory to have when I go. A last meal, and a last wish."

"Oh my God." She looked like she couldn't decide whether to be outraged or astonished. "You weren't talking about me last night. You were talking about you."

"I was talking about both of us," he said, squeezing her hand. "But that's the real reason why I asked you out on a date. Because I wanted to leave this world with something other than loneliness and isolation in me. And I hoped I might give you the same. You were right about us giving each other pieces of ourselves. That's what life's all about, I think. Handing another human being some warm part of yourself that they can hold onto for however long they live."

She was quiet for a moment. Tears glimmered in her eyes, and he wanted desperately to kiss and hold her, to make it better.

"You did make me feel that," she confessed. "Experiences aren't just new and fresh for you, they're precious. You know their value. I wasn't numb with you. Others wouldn't be either. Doesn't that make your life's worth living?"

"If I had the courage to go out and find those others, maybe," he sighed. "But I wouldn't have been able to speak to you if you hadn't been about to throw yourself off the bridge. You were right, Sarah. I don't know how to approach the living."

"Chuck—" she said, tears spilling down her cheeks.

He brushed back her hair from her wet face. "I got lucky last night. Luckier than I've ever been in my benighted life. I'm not going to beg the universe for more."

His head was hurting less. The day was getting brighter and if he was going to go through with this he had to do it fast. The rest of the world would be intruding on them very soon. Joggers, folk walking their dogs, or riding their bikes to work. Those that were alive and had no idea how fortunate they were.

He pushed himself up. He felt strangely wistful, as if he were finally, regretfully, giving up on a long held dream. A dream that things might change, that he might have what everyone else seemed to have.

He set a knee back up on the rail.

"Want to go out on a date?" Sarah suddenly said from where she still sat, there on the cobbles.

He went still, then blinked down at her. She held out a demanding hand. He brought down his knee and helped her to her feet.

"What?" he said.

"A date," she wiped tears from her eyes and shook back her hair. "We'll have breakfast, take a walk in the park." She said with a hopeful smile.

He stared at her. Licked his lips. "You're serious?"

"I wouldn't lie to you either," she said firmly.

"You'd...do that for me? Stay alive? Keep living?"

"For another day," she agreed. "Till dusk, say? Then we could come back here." Her long lashes dropped over those sky blue eyes. "And you can jump off the bridge...or ask me out on another date."

Chuck swallowed down a lump. "A second date? That would be a first for me."

"Everything's a first for you," she said, "It's what I love about you."

He thought about that. "Will I have to worry about rejection?"

"Well, given what you'll do if I say no, I'd say you don't need to worry too much. Is it a date?" she said chuckling slightly through the tears.

In her heeled calf-high boots she was about 3 inches shorter than he was. She looked up at him. Her eyes were as blue as the morning sky. Looking into her face, straight on and with no inclination to glance away, Chuck felt her there with him, stirring to life. He felt, as well, a piece of her deep inside of him, warming his heart and soul, giving him a taste of all the world had to offer.

He suspected she felt the same.

"It's a date."

**The end.**


End file.
